A Day in the Life
by sherlockhastheTARDIS
Summary: Short drabbles showing snippets of John and Sherlock's daily life together. Definitely Johnlock, drabbles are all sequential unless otherwise specified. Any possible trigger warnings will be disclosed in an author's note at the start of the chapter, but I don't intend to write this with any triggers.
1. The First Time

**A/N: Hiya! Sorry it's taken me forever to publish something new, I've been super busy and havent' had that many brilliant fic ideas. But I have a few now, so I'm excited to be publishing again.**

**The deal with this series is that each chapter will be a drabble or a piece of similar length, all sequential unless specified, and all in the same universe. Just cute little snippets of their lives. Hope you enjoy!**

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John woke up when the sun hit his face, sighing and nuzzling back into his pillow. His very warm, pale, muscled, _breathing_ pillow.

His eyes widened and his heart started pounding in his chest as the events of last night hit him like a freight train. He wanted to move, to do something, anything, but his muscles were paralysed. He had slept with Sherlock; his flatmate, colleague, best friend, and the man he'd secretly been in love with for so long…

Sherlock sighed and slowly opened his eyes, looking at the terrified army doctor. But to John's surprise he didn't push him away or run off screaming, but rather pulled John close and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

"Stop worrying," he said gently, voice still thick with sleep.

John smiled and relaxed at the sound of Sherlock's voice, blushing slightly. "You don't regret… What we did?"

"No. Never. We've both been wanting it for some time… Besides, once I get what I want I tend to be quite stubborn about keeping it."


	2. Because We're on a Date

Sherlock had seen John court dozens of women in their time together. He therefore knew that shagging usually happened after at least one date. So he resolved to – now that they'd screwed up that order – take John out on the proper date the army doctor deserved.

He got dressed up, wore the purple shirt he knew John loved, texted John some of the details and went to pick him up in a cab from the clinic.

He could have taken John somewhere fancy and ridiculously expensive, but that didn't seem to fit them. So he took John somewhere special to them: Angelo's. John of course looked stunning, and the food was superb, but what made Sherlock happiest was when Angelo asked if he should get them a candle, and John just smirked and said, "Well, that seems like it'd be appropriate, since we're finally on a date."


	3. Coughs and Cuddles

It was entirely Sherlock's fault. He had taken the case, chased down the suspect, and then jumped off the boat into the Thames. All against John's advice. But of course, Sherlock never listened, and John wasn't at all surprised when around two in the morning his already congested-sounding pillow started coughing terribly.

He _was_ surprised however, at how cuddly Sherlock got when he was sick. They were sitting together on the sofa watching Toy Story – Sherlock's favourite film, John had just learned not to ask any questions - when the detective began to shift into John's lap. Soon enough, John was covered in six feet and one inch of his consulting detective boyfriend. He looked down at him, smiling lovingly and carding his fingers through Sherlock's inky curls, sighing.

"I love you," he whispered, still smiling.

Sherlock hummed happily and snuggled in closer to John's chest. "Lub you, doo, Johd," he mumbled, stuffy nose and all.


	4. My Doctor

It had been a normal day at the clinic. Six colds, two broken arms, one allergy attack, and three routine physicals. London had seemingly decided to be all of her stereotypes that night, which meant John was running home in the pouring rain without an umbrella, unable to catch a cab for the life of him.

But when he finally made it home and trudged up the stairs, he couldn't help but grin, despite the fact that he was dripping onto the floor. Before him sat Sherlock Holmes, on the sofa, knees drawn up to his chest, wearing sweatpants and John's too-small RAMC jumper; eating chocolate and watching Doctor Who.

Not wanting to say anything for fear that he would ruin the moment, John quietly turned and went down the hall for a hot shower. He changed into his own pair of sweatpants and Sherlock's too-big Oxford University jumper before padding down the hall and joining the detective on the sofa with two more bars of chocolate.

"When I was little I used to dream that the Doctor would come and save me," Sherlock said quietly, unwrapping the new bar of chocolate John had given him. "He'd come in the TARDIS with that long scarf of his and take me far away."

John smiled at this new side of his partner he was seeing. "Did you?"

Sherlock nodded, smiling sadly. "All the time. But he never did, of course. And then years later a different sort of doctor came a saved me. He didn't wear a scarf or travel through time, but he saved me and he turned me into a good man." Here Sherlock's smile turned happy and he looked at John, who had tears in his eyes. "My doctor. He came and showed me what it was like to love and to be happy."


	5. Family Dinners

Sherlock was never nervous. He never got butterflies in his stomach, never got twitchy, never paced back and forth unless he was working through a case. But in the back of the cab on their way to Sherlock's mother's house for a family dinner, Sherlock was practically squirming in his seat.

"Love, breathe," John reminded him for what felt like the thousandth time, reaching over and resting his hand on Sherlock's bouncing leg. "It's just dinner."

Sherlock scoffed but did stop his leg bouncing, reaching out and squeezing John's hand while his gaze remained fixed out the window. "No, it's not just dinner. It's a _dinner party_," he said, practically spitting out the last two words. "We have to wear suits and pretend to be posh while everyone else sits around and talks about nothing."

John raised an eyebrow, knowing that Sherlock wouldn't be nervous if that was all the dinner party entailed. But he knew from experience not to press his partner for information, so he didn't push for the truth. "You love seeing me in a suit," he reminded Sherlock with a smirk, kissing his cheek.

Sherlock smiled softly at that, humming in agreement. He didn't speak again until the cab pulled up on the gravel drive of the Holmes manor. "Mummy... Well, I never exactly told her about.. Us," he said softly, looking down at their entwined hands.

_Ah, _John thought to himself. "Well then I'll just have to make a good first impression," he said with a smile, trying to get Sherlock to calm down.

Sherlock chuckled and shook his head. "No, not like that. I mean I never told her that you're... Well, that you're male," he said, managing a soft smile. "She knows that I've found someone incredible and that I love them more than anything, but no specifics about you. She never took it well when Mycroft came out, so I never bothered."

John paused, biting his lip and thinking. "Then we knock on the door and if she says anything bad, we leave," he declared after a moment, kissing Sherlock's cheek again. "You can do this."

"Right," Sherlock said, taking a breath and getting out of the cab. "We can do this." He squeezed John's hand and adjusted both of their suits before leading the army doctor up to the door and ringing the bell.

John blinked in surprise when Sherlock's mother answered. She looked so much like the detective; same inky curls, same defined mouth, same lean figure... The similarities were eerie, really. "Sherlock," she said, grinning at her son. "Love, it's been too long. And this is...?"

Sherlock cleared his throat and gave his mother a tight-lipped smile, clearly nervous. "Mummy, this is John. The person I've been telling you about," he said, squeezing John's hand yet again.

Mrs. Holmes paused, looked John up and down and then looked back over at her son before stepping forward and pulling them both into a hug. When she pulled back she pointed a scolding finger at John and warned, "You treat him well, understand? Because he loves you more than anything."

John grinned wide, looking up at Sherlock and then back at his mother. "Yes ma'am. I love him, too."


	6. Arguments

**A/N: ... Hi. I know, I'm so sorry. Just.. Okay, I can't make excuses. Yeah, life was busy, but also the muse just completely left me. So there's nothing I can say other than I'm so so so sorry. Also, there will be a chapter of Why Talk When You Can Text? that's a continuation of this storyline. I'm having a much harder time with When September Ends, though. I'll try, but I can't promise and update soon.**

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"I said, leave me alone," he stated coolly, turning the adjustment knobs on his microscope. "I need to work."

"No, Sherlock, you don't need to work," John said from the doorway, significantly less calm than his boyfriend. Sherlock pushed his emotions aside and didn't respond, instead keeping his attention trained on trying to bring the slide into focus. John stormed into the room and stood across the table from the detective, shoving the microscope aside.

"You can hide and bury yourself in your experiments for as long as you'd like, Sherlock. But ignoring the problem won't make it go away. For god's sake, you've got me! Just let me help you, please."

Sherlock looked up when the microscope was moved, his emotionless grey eyes meeting John's pleading blue ones with a cold stare. "It's worked just fine before," he countered, still completely calm. "Because newsflash, John, I haven't always had you, and I doubt that I always will. So I cope the way I cope. And I don't understand what makes you so special that you'd be able to help me."

John clenched his jaw and gripped the edge of the table until his knuckles were white. "Nothing makes me _special_," he spat. "Nothing. I just want to help you because I love you."

Sherlock scoffed and turned away. "Because love conquers all. Love is what's going to keep me safe forever, is that it?" He shook his head. "No, John. Work keeps me safe. Work is all I have."

John sighed and stood up, pushing the microscope back in front of Sherlock's face. "Then work. But just know this, Sherlock. That thing that makes you smile and get all fluttery when you say those three little words? That thing you pretend doesn't happen because it's 'weak'? You won't be able to find that in a microscope slide." With that he stormed out, grabbing his coat off the sofa and leaving their flat.

Sherlock stayed silent and tried to focus on his work. He pretended that he was fine for three hours, but John's words were getting to him the whole time. '_You won't find that in a microscope slide'._ He sighed and pushed the microscope away again, picking up his phone instead. It took him half an hour of typing and retyping before he could send the text to John.

_I'm sorry. Come home, love. - SH_


End file.
